


The Last Fall of Snow

by Daydreamer



Category: Bleach
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, Shonen Ai, Spoilers, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydreamer/pseuds/Daydreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jūshirō  Ukitake has lived with his illness for the majority of his life and has resigned himself to his fate. Now that he finds himself living on borrowed time, can Shunsui show him that love isn't only something meant for the young and vibrant?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Fall of Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fadedlullabyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedlullabyes/gifts).



> Warnings: sap, fluff, angst, definitely some spoilers for the more recent chps of the manga, not many, but enough that you should be warned.  
> Written for fadedlullabyes for my pay it forward campaign.  
> I don't own Bleach or make money from the writing of this work of fiction.

Jūshirō Ukitake coughed lightly into his hand as Rukia began detailing the progress with the division's drills. Since the fiasco with Aizen, all the divisions had been ordered by the head captain to conduct drills in order to determine readiness in the event the Arrancar rose up again. It was unlikely. They had taken a catastrophic blow and for the past few months, things had been in something akin to a tentative peace. The only thing that remained was the completion of the sword that would return shinigami powers to Ichigo Kurosaki.

"Captain?"

"I'm fine, Rukia. You were saying?"

He chuckled at the stiffening of Rukia's back. She wore her lieutenant's badge with honor. While Kiyone and Sentarō had done an admirable job in assuming the duties of a lieutenant, neither was ready for that position, and he could not have chosen between them anyway. They were like a daughter and a son to him. To choose one over the other would have been an impossible task. Besides, after the war with Aizen and his Arrancar, Rukia was ready take the position.

For a long time, he had wondered if she would ever grow into herself and finally release the hold Kaien Shiba had held. Though they were all scarred by the war, Rukia came into her own during that time and he could not have asked for a more dutiful and talented lieutenant. Perhaps one day she would become a captain in the Gotei 13. It was a shame he would be unlikely to see it.

Coughing again, he looked over the roster Rukia handed him. Written in the margin, in surprisingly neat penmanship, were suggestions for restructuring of the division, including promoting and demoting of certain members. "Interesting."

"I know it's forward of me, but we really should be adjusting the ranks more often. A lot of other shinigami talk about how they are glad they are not in Division 13 for the simple reason that moving up in ranking is more difficult."

"Do they?" Jūshirō rubbed his chin and forced back his embarrassment. With everything that had been going on for the last few years and with his own illness decreasing his capacity, not to mention his failure to appoint an appropriate lieutenant to help ease his burden, he had neglected his division for far too long.

"Since only you can approve promotion or demotion, I thought we should start assessing skills and reassigning ranking. There are several unseated members of the division that should definitely be moved into ranked positions."

Feeling the familiar smothering sensation in his chest rise, he reached immediately for the handkerchief he kept stowed in an inner pocket of his haori. He had fought back the coughs so to ease Rukia's state-of-mind, but found it impossible to do so now. If he had not spent so much time ill, he would have been embarrassed. Being from a noble family, regardless of ranking, demanded certain appearances.

"Captain!"

Jūshirō waved her away and continued to cough into the white cloth. The seconds ticked by like hours as his body contracted and his lungs attempted to expel the gathered fluid. Instead of becoming easier as was expected, it became even more difficult to take in a breath. He heaved for breath between the fit of coughing and real panic began to set in. 

In the distance, he could hear Rukia calling for help. Strangely, it sounded far away, as if she was screaming through a tunnel. For one moment, he thought this was the end. There was so much he had wanted to say to people. There were things left unsaid for so long that needed to be spoken before it was too late. Perhaps his own fear had been his downfall, because now as he struggled for even a small breath, he was regretting.

How long he lay in this sense of regret and suspended animation was uncertain. Hands, warm with reiatsu, pressed onto his chest. He attempted to struggle, but his arms felt as if they were moving through thick mud.

"Calm down, Ukitaki-san."

Jūshirō gasped loudly at the calm voice of Captain Unohana. He almost laughed out loud every time he heard her gentle voice. If only others knew what he knew about the woman. She was a demon hiding her true face behind a calm exterior. 

But, she was the most skilled healer in the Seireitei, taught advanced healing skills by Tenjirō Kirinji. If she could not heal someone, short of Tenjirō intervening, the person could not be healed.

"Wha—?"

"You had an attack." An uncharacteristic showing of concern crossed over her face before the normally calm visage was once more in place. Could she actually care? 

"That's not unusual." The warmth of her reiatsu faded from his chest and he slowly moved away. "I'm used to it."

She sat back on her knees and nodded. "Yes, of course."

"We both know I'm living on borrowed time. I don't imagine I'll live longer than another one or two hundred years."

Her lashes fluttered for a moment before she nodded at his assessment. He knew his body. He had always known his strengths and weaknesses. The battle with Aizen and his nearly fatal injury had shaved considerable years from his lifespan. It was a regrettable cost to stop the man from doing the unthinkable.

"You should rest for a few days. I will give your excuses to the head captain." She helped him to his feet and assisted him to the quarters discretely hidden behind a screened wall.

As he was eased down onto a futon, he glanced up at the woman. "Captain Unohana, in your honest opinion, do you think I should resign?"

"As captain?"

He nodded, maintaining the lock of their gazes. His chest hurt, but for a reason unrelated to his illness. A familiar fear inside him roared to life. If he was no longer a captain, would he have anything to live for?

"You are one of the most powerful shinigami alive."

"That's not an answer."

She smiled and shook her head. "I think even if you were on your deathbed, you would be a better captain than anyone appointed to take your place."

"I've been neglecting my division."

"None of us are perfect in how we run our divisions. That is why we rely so much on our lieutenants. I think that the reason your division has lapsed is because of your long time without a true lieutenant. Now that you have one, I would imagine you will do quite well. You are still reeling from the issue with Aizen. Unlike the rest of us, your ability to recuperate is stunted due to your illness. It would be wise for you to take a few days and rest. Let your lieutenant handle the day to day. Rest." She smiled calmly at him and then closed the tissue paper door with a slight click.

Jūshirō nodded slowly and rested his head on the futon. Though his body screamed at him to sleep, his mind refused to rest. He had seen his own death today. If Unohana had not arrived when she did, he would have died. He would never have been given the chance to say what he needed to say to the person that it needed saying to. Not that he would ever find the bravery to do so.

Lifting a hand to his eyes, he closed them at the ache there. He felt weary and older than his time. Perhaps he should leave things as they were. If he ruined what was already there, he could very well destroy what he had come to rely on. He was not sure if he could survive without the friendship that had defined him as a person.

"Shunsui," he whispered into the silence of the room. "I'm afraid of leaving you."

oOo

The lids of Jūshirō's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he was disorientated. A slight sound, the rustling of fabric, had caught the edge of his conscience and pulled him groggily from sleep.

"Oh, sorry I woke you, handsome."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," he said, though the word secretly pleased him when coming from those lips.

Shunsui Kyōraku smiled broadly at Jūshirō from where he sat on the floor beside the futon. "You were snoring so loudly, I wondered if Unohana could have just been covering for you. Then I recalled who she was."

Jūshirō snorted and struggled into a seated position. He still felt weak from the attack. It was likely he would be confined to his bed for several days, especially after such a powerful attack. "I meant to send you a message, but it seems I fell asleep."

"I figured. Though, Unohana seemed a bit concerned about your heath when she spoke." Shunsui's normally carefree expression bled away and a frown turned down his lips. "I know you. You're probably taking on too much work. Put your new lieutenant to work."

"I'm not like you, Shunsui. I don't want to force Rukia to actually run my division."

Shunsui shrugged and a lazy grin spread on his lips. "But Nanao is so good at her job."

"One day you're going to wake up with a zanpakutō to the heart."

"Never. My sweet Nanao adores me. She would never turn on me." 

"Never say never, my friend."

The chuckle rumbling from Shunsui was like balm to Jūshirō's soul. Just being in Shunsui's presence was enough to ease his mind. Though he might come across as lazy and a drunkard, Shunsui was the most powerful shinigami beneath the head captain. He was loyal, almost to a fault, and never foisted too much onto his subordinates. 

Few knew that while Nanao complained about her lazy captain, she was actually the lieutenant with the least amount of duties forced on her. Shunsui worked late in the office with paperwork before it ever reached Nanao's desk.

"Jūshirō, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Unohana said I would have to rest for a few days. That's all."

Shunsui looked unconvinced and he hated how he could not lie convincingly to the man. Anyone else might fall for it, but not Shunsui. They had been friends for too long and were treated like sons by the head captain.

"I'm fine. Really. This attack was pretty bad, and it could have been worse if Captain Unohana had not arrived, but she did. I just need to rest."

The look Jūshirō received was one of, 'I know you're lying but I can't prove it so I'll keep quiet for now'. He simply rolled his eyes and reclined on the futon. "How was the meeting?"

"Need you ask?"

Jūshirō smiled fondly. "You should be ashamed of using that hat of yours to sleep during the captain meetings."

They both knew the reason he dozed during the less important meetings, but did not speak of it. Knowing was enough. Shunsui was a good captain who ensured his subordinates were not overly burdened, even if he came across as lazy.

"Aww, Shiro-chan, I do need my beauty rest after all."

Jūshirō loved the sound of that teasingly petulant little boy voice Shunsui used when reprimanded. He loved everything about him and had from their days at the academy. It was so hard not to speak of it, but he would rather have the platonic friendship for the remainder of his days rather than be left alone. It was a willing sacrifice he made; though there were times, more often of late, when he thought it might be worth the risk to confess his feelings. After so long, their friendship could weather just about anything.

"Shunsui, why don't you confess your nightly activities to Nanao?"

A small smile curved Shunsui's lips and he chuckled lightly. "I like the way we are just fine. If I have to sleep through Old Man Yama's droning speeches, it's a small price to pay."

"You're incorrigible," said Jūshirō drolly.

"But you love me anyway." 

There was a faint scratching at the door. Shunsui stood slowly and stretched his arms over his head. His bare feet padded on the carpet as he moved to open the sliding screen and revealed a kneeling Kiyone with a tray of tea and two cups. "I hope you're feeling better, Captain Ukitake."

"I am." Jūshirō gestured for her to enter with the tray and smiled. "Thank you for the tea, Kiyone."

Kiyone's hands shook a little, causing the porcelain pot and cups to clink. A small tear trailed down her cheek and Shunsui moved quickly to take the tray from her hands before she dropped it. She dropped to her knees beside his futon, tears now falling freely.

"Please don't die, Captain."

Jūshirō's eyes widened noticeably. "Kiyone?"

"I saw you there. You were dying and there was nothing we could do. None of us are skilled enough with healing. I was so helpless until Captain Unohana arrived."

Kiyone was practically wailing and her head face was now buried in his chest. He glanced up to see Shunsui's face shadowed. "Calm down, Kiyone. It was my fault. I was doing too much too soon. I won't die for a long time."

"Why can't Captain Unohana heal you?"

"My illness is genetic. I'm afraid that no amount of healing can stop what I was born to have."

Kiyone released a small whimper and Jūshirō placed his hand on her head, ruffling her short blond hair. "You don't have to worry. I'm going to take care of myself and you have Rukia to help you run the division."

A pout formed on Kiyone's lips. He knew she had hoped to be elevated to lieutenant status, but she just was not ready. Maybe someday she would grow into her powers; she certainly had the potential for it. He hoped he was alive to see it.

"Go on. You need to attend to your duties."

The girl nodded and slipped away, all the while wiping at her tears and putting on a brave face. He watched her go with something akin to fatherly affection. Every one of his subordinates was precious to him and he would defend them, even if it resulted in his death.

"She's in love with you."

He shook his head and smiled fondly. "She's a girl who doesn't know what she feels. I'm her Captain. She has misplaced loyalty with love and will grow out of it eventually."

Shunsui passed him a cup of tea before pouring his own. "She's a good girl, just like her sister."

"You're drinking tea today?" teased Jūshirō.

"Nanao watered down my sake." Shunsui pouted petulantly. "It was an expensive vintage too."

"If only she knew that you only drink when she's around." Jūshirō took a sip of the tea, savoring the warmth spreading through him. "Eventually she's going to realize you aren't the drunkard you play."

"Only if you tell her. She's a smart girl, but sees in tunnel vision." Shunsui ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair. "I'm trying to train her out of it. Looks can be deceiving. I do enjoy a good cup of sake, only not as often as she believes."

"She'll learn. She's only about one hundred and fifty. Give her some time."

Shunsui grinned and settled down beside Jūshirō. "It's been a while since we had tea like this."

Jūshirō gave an agreeing hum. "We've been busy. There has been a lot that needed to be done and still does. Truthfully, I won't feel comfortable until we return Ichigo Kurosaki's abilities to him. He did so much for us. He has never once backed away from what he feels is right."

"The old man inquired about the progress to that end. I don't think it will be long. Kisuke is working with us on this."

"I'm worried," murmured Jūshirō. "There is something in the air. If we don't hurry, I fear we might be too late."

"Don't worry about Ichigo. He's a tough one, just like his father." Shunsui chuckled. "Though, there are times I wonder who he takes after the most, his father or his mother."

"A mixture of both, I would imagine. He definitely doesn't get his looks from his father."

The both started laughing, tea sloshing from the edges of cups as their mirth grew. Lately, laughing had been somewhat absent. It felt so good to laugh like this again.

Until he began coughing.

He tried to fight it, but with him being in the weakened state he was, he could not hold back the wet coughs wracking his body. He brought his hand to his mouth and caught the blood as it dribbled onto his palm.

"Shiro?"

Shunsui was at his side, pressing a tissue to his lips and patting his back firmly until the coughs subsided. His illness was always like this, filled with bouts of illness and then times of remission. With his body still weak, the blood in his coughs would come. He always hated those times.

Even though his lips were stained red from the blood and his hand was coated with expelled blood, Shunsui did not seem even the least bit phased as he set about cleaning every spot of blood.

"You don't have to do that," he whispered. "I can clean myself."

"I don't mind." Shunsui's lips were pulled tight and his eyes as intense as if he was focusing on battle instead of cleaning blood from a sick friend.

Again Jūshirō was reminded of how much he loved Shunsui. He parted his lips to confess when his fear closed up his throat. This was enough, he thought. Just being near Shunsui was enough.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, handsome."

His heart trilled and he simply smiled. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

oOo

Jūshirō sat wrapped in his haori, basking in the warm spring sun as it chased away the chills of winter. With Rukia handling most of the day to day, he was allowed to rest and finally recuperate. The cough was harder to fight lately, but it was growing less and less frequent with every passing day.

The highlight of his days, however, was the daily visits from Shunsui. Most days, they sat and talked over tea or the occasional cup of sake. Those times spent with him were the best in his life.

"Yo, Jūshirō."

Jūshirō smiled and lifted a hand in greeting to Shunsui as he ambled up. "The last of the snow is melting."

"Maybe there will be one more snow before the weather completely warms."

"That isn't something a sick person should say," teased Shunsui as he settled beside Jūshirō.

Smiling, Jūshirō shrugged. "I've always liked winter. The snow makes the entire Soul Society beautiful in a blanket of white."

Shunsui chuckled and snagged a lock of Jūshirō's hair. "Just like your hair, a blanket of white."

"It used to be black," he sighed ruefully.

During one of the worst episodes brought on by his illness, the color from his hair had drained away. He had nearly died and came away with snow white hair. Only his brows remained dark as a reminder of his former hair color.

"I can't imagine you with dark hair." Shunsui's fingers continued to play with the lock of white hair. "I like you just the way you are."

"I'm flattered, but white hair makes me look like an old man."

"It does not. Look at Hitsugaya."

Jūshirō chuckled mirthlessly. "Toshiro is not sick."

Shunsui dropped the hair being twisted between his fingers and reached over to clasp his palm over Jūshirō's fisted hand. "You don't look like an old man. I told you, I like the way you look. I always have."

Wistful hopefulness wormed alive in Jūshirō's chest. He felt the warmth of Shunsui's hands. His body soaked up the heat as if it was starved for warmth, though it was Shunsui he was really starved for.

"I'm glad I have you as a friend," he murmured.

Some of the brightness of Shunsui's aura dimmed slightly before he masked it with a wide smile. "Of course, handsome. Life would be so boring without you."

"I think I should be saying that," he said, internally frowning at the dismissive way Shunsui spoke. He had never acted that way to him, only to others.

"I do have a way about me. Ask Nanao." Shunsui scratched his head and released Jūshirō's hand. "I've got to get going. I'm sure I'm due a scolding from Nanao."

"Shunsui?"

"I'll see you around, Shiro-chan."

Jūshirō watched him go with a frown on his face.

For the remainder of the day, he worried about that strange distancing by Shunsui. When a day passed and he did not return, he did not worry. It was silly of him to think Shunsui could come every day. When a week passed, the excuses that he gave himself every day seemed as thin as rice paper.

Unohana had given him the okay to begin light activities, and the first chance he got to leave his division; he headed straight to Division Eight. He was greeted by Nanao, who looked more frazzled than he had ever seen her. The worry that had been a constant buzz in the back of his mind flared loudly in his head.

"Captain Ukitake, thank goodness."

"Nanao? What's happened?"

Shunsui's lieutenant adjusted her glasses in a nervous gesture and glanced toward the Division Eight training grounds. "My captain hasn't left the training grounds in days. He's completely decimated them. Anyone who tries to stop him gets yelled at. I've never seen him like this. Drunk, yes. Passed out, yes. Completely insane, never."

"I'll handle it, Nanao. Just keep your division members from the area for a while." Jūshirō walked quickly toward the training grounds. He avoided spending his hard won energy on shunpo, instead choosing to maintain a normal speed as he approached the area.

Nanao had not been far off. The area was in ruins. Something like this was so out of character for Shunsui. He was a pacifist by nature, preferring to deal with conflict through discussion rather than action, though he was always ready to draw his blades should the need arise.

Katen Kyōkotsu was in its shikai released state, both swords drawn and driving forward through a series of trees as if they were nothing but butter. He supposed he should be grateful that Shunsui had not released his bankai. Instead, he drew his weapon and moved forward with a few quick shunpo steps and blocked Shunsui's downward swing with Sōgyo no Kotowari.

Shunsui blinked for several seconds before stepping back and lowering his weapon. "Are you an idiot? I could have hurt you."

"You're too good of a swordsman to think that, Shunsui." Jūshirō glanced around the decimated training grounds. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" He arched a brow at Shunsui. "Nothing is you deciding to take a long walk. Destroying your division's training grounds is not nothing...not for you."

"I said it's nothing, Jūshirō."

Jūshirō was a bit surprised at Shunsui's harsh tone. Never during their entire friendship had he spoken so harshly to him. Were he not so worried, the tone might have hurt him. "It's not nothing."

"Why are you doing this?" whispered Shunsui. "Why are you torturing me?"

"I don't understand."

Shunsui laughed, though the sound seemed more like crying. "You know, Jūshirō, I never once thought to push you. I thought we had more time, but when I was told about the severity of your last attack, I knew our time was running out. I thought I could woo you gently. If there was some attraction, even a little, I could work with that. But you never give me a single sign. Not once. The final straw was when you called me your friend. After so long, hearing that you would never be mine was like a being struck down by a zanpakutō."

"Shunsui..." Jūshirō could not believe what he was hearing. His mind was unable to compute the thoughts fighting for dominance. Happiness warred with uncertainty. Fear warred with hope. His mouth was dry and the hand holding his zanpakutō was shaking.

"Don't say it." Shunsui turned to face him, his wavy hair free around his face. Several tendrils stuck to his face by sweat and his eyes were almost dead. This was not the man so full of life that he had known for the majority of his life.

"I have to," whispered Jūshirō as he took a fortifying breath. "I wish you didn't love me. I don't have much time left, not in the larger scope. I'll be lucky to see another two hundred years. Towards the end, I won't be able to do more than stay in the bed."

Jūshirō dropped his gaze to the dusty ground beneath his feet as he felt the weight of his affection for Shunsui grow in his chest. He had to say this. The fear he had held for so long was pushed aside in favor of the small sprig of hope blooming inside him.

"I wish you didn't love me," he repeated. "Because I love you so much and the thought of leaving you behind terrifies me more than I can say."

The depressed look of rejection melted from Shunsui to leave only shock. The words seemed lost on him, which was a surprising state. "You love me?"

Jūshirō nodded and suddenly warm arms were wrapped around him, pulling him close as a face buried itself in his neck. He was not sure what to do, so he simply wrapped his arms around the warm body and relaxed. Shunsui smelled of sweat and dust. Nothing had ever smelled so good to him.

"Tell me I heard you right."

A chuckle caught in his throat and his arms tightened around Shunsui. "I love you. I have since we were at the Academy."

Shunsui pulled back, his eyes wide. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I was afraid. I would have rather had you as only a friend than risk what we had."

"What made you change your mind?"

"You." Jūshirō smiled and traced a hand over the thick stubble on Shunsui's face. "You treated me like the others. I had nothing to lose by confessing." 

"And everything to gain," said Shunsui.

"Something like that."

He felt Shunsui's hand touch his face and felt the intensity of those warm brown eyes. When their lips touched, it was like everything stopped for the space of heart beat before beginning again in a wild tornado of emotion. He had kissed before, even taken a lover or two. But none had compared to the warm dry touch of Shunsui's mouth. He parted his lips and groaned at the wet touch of a tongue slinking inside.

Gasps rippled from both of them as they pulled away from the kiss and stared at each other with a renewed sense of emotion. This was what it felt like to kiss Shunsui. The only cognizant thought in his mind was, 'why had he waited so long?'

Swallowing the lump of emotion clearly visible on his face, Jūshirō spoke quietly. He had to be sure Shunsui understood what it meant to be with him. "I'm dying."

Shunsui's expression did not change. "I know."

"We don't have forever."

"I'll take what I can get."

Jūshirō lowered his gaze and leaned his head against Shunsui's shoulder. "Alright."

Several moments passed before Shunsui spoke, the laughter back in his words. "Should we go tell Nanao that I'm not going to destroy any more of Division Eight?"

Jūshirō smiled against Shunsui's shoulder. "Don't tease her. She was really worried."

"I was still thinking, I just had to burn off my frustrations."

"I know." Jūshirō smiled and reluctantly pulled away, shivering at the sudden chill in the air and the loss of Shunsui's heat. "She loves you like a father."

"More like a mother hen." Shunsui wrapped an arm around him and led him toward the barracks where Nanao watched wide-eyed. He stopped walking and stared at the sky. "It's snowing."

Jūshirō glanced around as tiny flakes of snow began drifting down around them. "The last snow of the year."

"Yeah," murmured Shunsui. "You were right. There was one more."

Shunsui turned Jūshirō in his arms and pressed their mouths together once more. A kiss amidst the slowly falling flakes. It was like a merging of warm and cold. Happiness, however long he was allowed, would be something he would grasp onto with both hands and never let go. Today was not the beginning of the end, but the beginning of his life.

The End.


End file.
